The Harlequin Doll
by HerNameWasDarkness
Summary: The personal memoirs of a Harlequin and her Joker, within the confinements of Arkham Asylum and outside it's walls. Into the abyss she goes, and she discovers the demon within. Rated M for mature situations.
1. Entry 1

My story is not about love. It is not about redemption. And it is most certainly not a story about justice. I believe that humans are born with such tragedies destined for them. And you dear possessor of this chronicle: I hope that you come to understand that if you are reading this, you may be in danger. Not because I find you with it. In case He should find it. You most certainly will be in danger. You have the chance now to put these papers down and save yourself. The choice is yours.

If it had been humanly possible. I would have been born without these psychotic tendencies. I was born a villain and despise myself utterly for it. I suppose that it is only human nature to try and pursue something completely opposite of that nature. But in my case: I halfway already was showing it to the world.

On the outside I represent a rebellious teenager. But on the inside something is very different. Something sinister. I feel it brewing in my mind. One may ask why haven't turned myself in. Why is it that there is something so wrong with me but I haven't placed myself in the custody of the police. Or even more holy, the doctors. Oh, how noble that would be of me. But unfortunately, I am not so generous. It is not in human nature to admit defeat so easily.

But my story begins in such a way, being defeated in one battle but beginning the next.

I could feel the suffocation enclosing on my entire body. The blood was rushing toward my head, and I felt this tensing in my body as it started to panic. My heartbeat was growing louder and louder and then I fell to the floor as someone cut my bond and I started to feel dizzy as someone far away yelled for help. It was my brother I believe. I am not entirely sure. But someone strong was holding me, and the world seemed to slow down entirely. With one bleary eye I looked back at the ceiling, seeing the rope swinging. It did so lazily as if waving gently in farewell.

Well farewell to you traitorous rope. Your harsh grip will be one close to my heart. And I shall return to your grasp soon. Soon, I thought.

They had taken out my piercing and confiscated my clothes. They searched me, inside and out. And I now was dressed in prison garb. My Arkham serial number printed on my breast. My garb was white, and I was going to be placed in a special ward. Away from the criminals. And also because of my family's financial situation I couldn't go to a proper mental hospital. I saw my face in the one-way glass and realized that the reflection was so strange. One without black makeup, was very unfamiliar. My own face was a stranger.

The guard escorted me out. The hallways were ghostly white. With the same eerie sense of calm. Very different from the rest of the city. This was a place of silent conformity, and of deathly silence I wasn't used to. But I made it even more hollow with every empty step I took. The guard held on to my shoulder and escorted me to the cell I was to be in for the next amount of time, and who knows how long that was to be.

My cell was small. One bed, white walls, one window on the door. I wasn't there as a criminal but I was on suicide watch. But I might as well have been a criminal. They treated me somewhat human. But in truth I was a beast that they needed to cage. I belonged here but that meant nothing to me. Again, it is against human nature to admit defeat.

"This is home." I declared, more so I had said it because I needed to give myself a reality check. The guard stayed mute. He closed the door and I was locked inside.


	2. Entry 2

I'm not sure why it is bolding and underlining. It is really irritating and there seems to be nothing that can fix it.

* * *

"Good morning." The doctor sat in his chair. "How are we feeling today?"

"I am somber." I replied. I honestly felt nothing about my situation.

"Hmmmmm." He hummed. He nodded and looked at me. "Ok, well, my name is Dr. Neer." He held out a hand for me to grasp. But after a minute of me not responding he awkwardly brought his hand down. "Please take a seat."

I walked to a generic leather couch. Looking at it I decided to sit.

"So let's begin." He sat down with his pad of paper and lovely pen. "You're in high school. A senior, am I correct?" I nodded.

"Were you bullied?"

"No." He peered through his glasses. "I don't like talking so no one had any reason to talk to me."

"Why don't you like to talk?"

"Not much to talk about."

"Why?"

"I'm pretty mundane." He grinned and laughed.

"I'd say not." He laughed. "From everything I've been told you are very interesting." I didn't say anything.

"You like to draw, am I correct?" I nodded. "What do you like to draw?"

"Sketching faces." It was a hobby I held very close to me. I started to sketch after my father and mother died. I got into some trouble with the police. And a certain Lieutenant Gordon had given me a piece of paper and a pen while I was waiting for my brother to pick me up. I still have the paper of Lieutenant Gordon's face.

"That's very interesting." The doctor wrote something down.

This mundane chatter went on. I was completely un-amused and bored. I couldn't really understand what he was trying to get to. There wasn't any visible progress within the conversation, and yet he took notes the entire time we spoke. He was stagnantly friendly.

"Well," He began putting his paper pad down on the desk. "I'm glad that we started this chat."

"Ok." I said. "Thanks." I spoke uneventfully. The sooner this conversation ended the better. But he had more to say.

"We will have an appointment at the end of the week. And I will see you during your therapy sessions with the other pris-err-patients." He had a hand on my shoulders by this time. It didn't feel right. "You should have some lunch now." I nodded curtly and left the room abruptly. And as I exited the room something else happened to me in that day.

I walked out the door and I suddenly came face to face with an unidentifiable and grotesque face. The crooked and jagged mouth grinned at me. I stared intently.

"Move along, nothing to see here." I was interrupted by a guard. It was a misshapen face belonging to a misshapen body. The body was clothed in an orange jumpsuit. He had a straight jacket binding his arms, but his wrists and ankles were bound with thin chains. I turned to walk but their pace matched mine.

"Hi." His voice was gravelly and low.

"Keep quiet." The guard commanded. The other guard was silent. I looked over at the man.

"Hi." I silently replied. He chuckled at me.

"What are you in for?" He asked, but he watched me and waited for me to answer. I began to speed up my walk. But he kept up the speed.

"What are YOU in for?" I replied.

"Touché." But he was persistent. "What's your name?"

I finally didn't want to talk anymore. I broke into a run. And I heard him laugh sinisterly, and it chilled me.


End file.
